Emmit Remmus
by The X-Pig
Summary: The past makes the man. PreXF, MO, MSR


AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have been musing this story over for awhile.  
It was inspired by a line in a RHCP song, for which this piece is  
named. I even entertained the idea of posting it under another  
pen name. However, I bit the bullet and just did it, so here it is.  
Please don't let the fact that it is Pre-XF and M/O throw you off.  
Just read it, please. 

THANKS: To Denise and Mallory for listening to me bitch about  
this idea for months. See, I told you I'd do it.

_

* * *

Twisting and turning  
Your feelings are burning_  
"Breaking The Girl" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

* * *

Fox Mulder stood on the commons, looking utterly lost. He had  
been at Oxford for two days now and still had no clue where he  
was going. In fact, he had no clue what he was even doing in  
England. Sure, he was willing to admit that he had decided to go  
to Oxford to get away with all that had been unbearable in his  
life up until that point. 

He was hiding, pure and simple.

But maybe he had made a mistake.

Usually, he fell into a group quickly, making friends with the  
"nerds" almost instantly. But not this time. Here he was the  
outsider, the "Yank," who was pushing in on the locals' territory.

At Oxford, everyone was still bitter about having needed the US's  
help to defeat Germany in World War Two. Or, at least, that's how  
it seemed to Fox. Since he had arrived, no one had given him the  
time of day and it was beginning to wear thin.

At the tap on his shoulder, Fox jumped, his heart rate increasing  
tenfold. The physical contact had been as startling as the fact  
that someone had decided to notice him at all. He turned,  
expecting to see an imposing looking professor or a harried  
upperclassman. But what, or rather, who he saw took his breath  
away.

A tall, thin woman stood before him, a sympathetic smile on her  
face. Fox stood stock-still, unable to form a complete thought.  
The woman was beautiful, simply beautiful. She had black, almost  
blue hair and piercing green eyes. Her face was oval, ending in  
an angular jaw and short chin. Her skin was smooth and clear, and  
very white in color. She stood close to Fox's own height and had  
curves in all the right places. She was awe-inspiring.

And she was looking at him expectantly.

Shit, she had asked him a question.

"I'm sorry, what?" Fox stammered, losing confidence as each  
second passed.

"I asked if you were new here," her accent was clearly local, "and  
I'd say, by the confused look on your face, that the answer is  
yes."

"Um, yeah. I am. I got here yesterday. I'm from America." He  
hoped he wasn't being the ass that he sounded like.

"Clearly. Your accent gives you away. Massachusetts, right?" She  
was taking his hand, leading him into the commons, getting him  
moving again.

Fox settled into the contact, allowing himself to be led. "Yes,  
Massachusetts."

She did not speak again, allowing the silence to become a solid  
form between them. As they passed through the commons and  
approached the street, thoughts blazed through Fox's head, one  
after another.

(Where are we going? Who is she? Who am I? What's going on?  
Do I care?)

His mental musings were cut short as he was jerked to a stop. He  
blinked, looking up to try to get his bearings. His eyes settled  
briefly on the door in front of him, before skirting away to find  
hers. When he turned in her direction, he found a genuine smile  
gracing her porcelain skin. Her smile was calming in the extreme,  
and the ball of panic that had made its home in his stomach  
since he stepped off the plane began to diminish some.

"You look like you need a drink." She stated, once again moving.  
Pulling him into the dimly lit pub, she ushered him into a booth  
then disappeared towards the bar.

Fox sat stupefied, marveling at the sudden turn of events his  
Life had taken in the last five minutes. He had gone from being  
the lonely outsider in a land of foreigners to sitting in a bar,  
make that pub, with a beautiful woman who was trying to make him  
feel welcome. A smile was spreading across his face when she  
approached the booth, two pints of Guinness in her hand.

"Feeling better?" She sat across from him, passing him a mug of  
thick brew.

"Much, thank you," he took a sip of the dark liquid before staring  
into the glass, suddenly afraid to make eye contact.

"My name's Elizabeth Stuart. People call me Liz. What's your  
name?" She settled back into her seat, patiently waiting for him  
to look up.

"Fox Mulder," his eyes connected with hers briefly before  
jumping away again, returning to gaze into his drink.

"Fox, that's an unusual name, " she took a long pull from her  
glass before continuing. "I like it."

The smile that graced Fox's face at that statement was bright  
enough to light a small city. He looked hard into her eyes,  
seeking to reassure himself that she wasn't lying to him. She withstood  
his searching gaze, smiling at him through it.

Confident that she was telling him the truth, he took another long  
drink of his ale, slamming the glass down once it was empty. Liz  
promptly stood, having already finished hers, and returned to the  
bar for another round. Fox nestled back into his seat, feeling a  
warmth spread through him and his newfound companionship.

Several hours and a few too many ales later, Fox and Liz stumbled  
out of the pub, using each other to remain reasonably upright.  
Over the course of the last hour they had begun making a lot of physical  
contact, the alcohol loosening their inhibitions.

Their mutual decision to leave the pub had been brought on by a  
brazen move on Fox's part. After he had drained his last pint of  
Guinness he had turned to Liz, who had been sitting next to him  
For the past two hours, and took her face in his hands, pulled  
her close, and kissed her with alcohol induced passion.

She had withdrawn from him quickly, searching his face for only  
she knew what. Having found what she sought, she grabbed his  
hand and leaned to his ear, whispering softly to him.

"Let's go back to my flat," she slurred softly in his ear.

He was speechless. Sure, he had been in a sexual relationship  
before, but never with someone he didn't really know, never on the  
"first date" and he was a little scared. However, he was also one  
to never pass up the opportunity to try something new. So, he  
grabbed her hand and they scooted out of the booth, heading for  
the door.

Now they stood outside, taking in large gulps of fresh air,  
clearing their heads enough to walk. Liz took his hand, getting  
Fox travelling in the right direction, before once again leaning against  
him for support. As they walked, Liz's hands roamed over  
his chest, his arms, his neck, arousing him more with each pass.  
The heat her body was generating was fuelling his desire for her,  
pushing his misgivings to the side.

They paused at her doorway, she searching for her keys, he  
searching for her mouth. They both found what they were looking  
for at the same time, her pulling her keys from her bag just as he  
pushed her against her door, his tongue plunging into her mouth.

As they broke apart, each needing air, she turned and inserted the  
key into the lock, opened the door and pulled him into the  
darkness. He kicked the door closed behind him as he grasped her  
shoulders and shoved her back into the wall. His mouth ravaged  
hers and his hands went to work on her clothing, pulling and  
tugging fabric out of the way.

Clothing dropped, hands groped, skin slid against skin. They found  
release in each other several times in the course of the night before  
both passed into a drunken, entangled slumber.

Fox awoke alone, in unfamiliar surroundings. He blinked several  
times, bringing his fingers to his eyes, trying to clear his sight. As  
his hands dropped back to his thighs, he realized that he was naked,  
and a touch sticky.

The previous night came flooding back into his mind, flooring him  
with its reckless nature. He could not believe what he had done.  
His eyes frantically searched the room, trying to gauge how long  
Liz had been gone.

His eyes came to rest on a folded slip on paper laying on the  
Pillow next to him. He gingerly picked it up, holding it in his  
hands for a long moment before opening it, already knowing what  
was written on it.

Dear Fox,

I had to go to class. I'm sorry about last night, I'm not usually like  
that. I hope you don't think badly of me. I think that maybe  
we shouldn't see each other for awhile, I just can't be held responsible  
for how I behave around you. I'm sorry.

Liz

Fox folded the sleet of paper back up and set it down. He took a  
deep breath and stood, beginning to gather his clothes. He  
showered and dressed quickly, not wanting to still be there when  
Liz returned.

Before leaving, he pushed the note into his pocket, unsure of why  
he was saving it. As he closed the door behind him, he swore that  
he would never again lose his heart on the first night.

Mulder placed the note back into his wallet, still unsure why he  
saved it. Every time he looked at it, it brought him nothing but  
pain. He reached for the box of tissues he kept on his desk, hoping to  
wipe the tears from his eyes before Scully returned and asked  
questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

(I will make some changes. She deserves more than this.)

He was on the phone when Scully entered the office, her meeting  
having run longer than planned. She caught sight of the lop-sided  
grin on Mulder's face and began cursing under her breath. She  
figured he was on to something and that always meant a trip to  
some small town with a crappy hotel and a small morgue where she  
would have to perform an autopsy on an unfortunate victim. She  
walked to her desk and slumped into her chair, awaiting Mulder's  
latest proclamation from on high.

Mulder hung up the phone and immediately made eye contact with  
Scully, mentally assessing her mood before he spoke. She seemed  
perturbed. He swallowed hard, hoping that what he had to say  
would improve her mood.

"Hey, Scully, you up for a little trip?" He leaned forward,  
bracing his forearms on his desk.

"Come on, Mulder, it's Friday," she sighed. "Can't we just take  
one weekend off. Please? For me?"

"But Scully, " he chuckled, "you haven't even heard what I'm gonna  
say."

"Okay, Mulder, what is it?" She leaned forward, matching his pose,  
bringing them closer.

"We are taking the weekend off, " he paused for effect, "in  
England."

"What?" She quickly leaned back, confused.

"I want you to come to England with me. For the weekend. Just the  
two of us." He took a deep breath. "No X-Files, no FBI. Just us.  
Say you will, Scully."

She was silent for several minutes, trying to get beneath the  
words that he had spoken, looking for the hidden meaning. Her eyes  
widened as she realized what he was asking her, and what she was  
hoping she was hearing behind his words.

"Mulder..." She stalled, not sure how to proceed.

Mulder stood and crossed the room, closing the distance between  
them. As he reached her, he pulled her to her feet, drawing her  
eyes to his. He leaned down, bringing his lips to her ear.

"I want you to go away with me, Scully." He placed a chaste kiss  
on her neck. "I have so much to make up to you, if you'll let me."

He pulled his face back, looking into her eyes once again, before  
leaning forward and pressing his lips lightly to hers. "Please?"

She answered him in a most unexpected, but not unpleasant way.  
She kissed him full on, licking at his lips with her tongue,  
begging entrance. When they finally pulled apart, she spoke  
the one word that would change both their lives.

"Yes."

* * *

Fin 

First published - 7/26/00


End file.
